


missed connections

by nutmeg101



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, National Women's Soccer League, US Women's Soccer National Team, Women's Professional Soccer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:25:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg101/pseuds/nutmeg101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kelley doesn't need a craigslist ad for this one though</p>
            </blockquote>





	missed connections

_Monday._

Kelley looks up from her newspaper. The ebb and flow of the rickety train slowly sways her body back and forth. That’s when she notices the woman sitting directly in front of her. Casually clad in jeans and a grey knit sweater; a heel poking out the back of one of her Sperry’s. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulders and the strap of her small brown bag, which sits in her lap, hangs loosely across her body. She looks engrossed in whatever she’s reading on her Kindle.

The look on her face is familiar. It’s one that Kelley knows all too well; that perfect combination of tiredness and concentration. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until the woman looks up; and maybe it’s the sudden halt of the train, but her stomach does the subtlest of flips. She darts her eyes back to her newspaper.

Several minutes later, they get off at the same stop. The woman is quickly lost in the rush of morning commuters.

*

_Tuesday._  

_Hold On_  by Alabama Shakes plays quietly through Kelley’s earbuds. With one hand on a pole to steady herself and the other one resting in the pocket of her brown leather jacket clutching her iPhone, she scans the crowded train for an empty seat. Instead of a locating a spot to sit, her eyes, like heat seeking missiles latch onto the same woman from yesterday. She’s taken this train (and specific car) almost every day for the past three years and has never seen her before, but now she’s two for two. 

Her stomach flips again.

The woman is crammed into the middle seat between an old lady with a small grocery cart, and a long legged, 30-something year old businessman in a dark grey pinstripe suit. They look like they could be a couple. A very good-looking, wealthy couple with the way her black dress screams,  _I’m a professional!_  Perhaps he’s a lawyer, and she’s a well-regarded stylist. But one stop later the man gets off without saying a word. 

Kelley doesn’t take his seat. She opts to admire from a distance.

The woman has no Kindle this time as she struggles to scribble something into a small blue journal. A daytimer, perhaps. The deep crease in the centre of her brow tells Kelley she’s frustrated. Eventually, she clicks the tip of the pen retracting its ballpoint and tucks it into her bag along with the journal.

Kelley should very well blend in with the crowd. She’s short compared to the majority, but somehow, amidst the people and bags, the woman manages to find her gaze. It’s unexpected, but Kelley doesn’t look away immediately. She holds it for the briefest of moments, like that pause in time when a ball seems to float in midair when thrown upwards before falling again. Then she slowly turns her head away, leans her shoulder against the plexiglass, and turns up the volume of her music. 

They depart the train at the same stop again. Kelley follows several paces behind her until they reach street level.

The woman goes left, she goes right.

*

_Wednesday._

Kelley spots her moment she steps foot onto the train, before the doors even have time to fully close behind her. She’s sitting in the same place she was on Monday. Legs crossed, arms folded; she pensively stares out the window as if they’re travelling through a colourful countryside instead of a dark tunnel.

Something about this sight makes Kelley smile and at that exact moment, the woman notices her. All the heat rushes to her cheeks and she fumbles to pretend to check her phone. She’s all sorts of flustered but Kelley swears the woman actually smiles back. 

Several stops later, they’re standing shoulder to shoulder waiting for the doors to open. Kelley doesn’t even know this woman and yet, standing here like this, she feels a surge of electricity between them. Although it could just be the friction from the train.

“Do you have the time?”

The voice actually startles Kelley, who is trying hard not to bump into her as the train screeches to a halt. But coolly, she pulls her phone out of her pocket. 

“9:05,” she says, tilting her phone towards the woman.

“Thanks.” She smiles and nods before the doors slide open and she jogs out, as if she’s late to be somewhere.

Kelley can’t get out another word. 

*

_Thursday._

Kelley doesn’t see the woman on the train today. Instead, she sees her at the Starbucks between the subway station and her office building. She isn’t alone. She’s with another woman and they’re both dressed in track pants and hoodies, as if they’d just come from or are going to the gym. They’re laughing about something as they wait for their drinks. Kelley watches in awe; the way the sound of her laughter resonates and the brightness of her smile lights up café; it’s spellbinding.

But when the woman makes eyes with Kelley, who’s still waiting to order her drink, she stops laughing. Her expression turns a little more serious, like maybe she’s surprised to see her here, or taken by the way Kelley is looking at her so- so  _besotted_ , but then she smiles.

And it’s the most gentle and quietest of smiles.

Kelley wants to say something. Desperately. But she can’t seem to fathom any of her thoughts into words or even afford to lose her place in line otherwise she’ll be late for work. Again.

She looks away for just a moment to place her order and when she looks back, the woman and her friend are gone. When she finally finds her again, she’s outside on the opposite side of the window. Kelley lets out a silent, deflated breath. However, just as the woman disappears around the corner, she looks back in and flashes Kelley another quick smile.

It goes unforgotten for the entire day. 

*

_Friday._

Kelley and the woman exchange fleeting and cunning glances all train ride. There was a part of Kelley that hadn’t anticipated on actually seeing her again, but there was also a part of her that knew she’d be there – particularly because usually takes the late train on Friday, but today, she goes earlier on purpose. The newspaper in her hands goes completely unread, as the does the paperback novel in the woman’s.

Some twenty minutes later, they exit the train but through separate doors. It’s almost as if the woman walks a little slower on purpose just so Kelley can catch up, which she does.

The crowd of people makes it impossible for either of them to actually converse, but Kelley follows about a step and a half behind.

In about five seconds, she will go one way, and the woman another. Kelley takes double steps until they’re level and glances over a few times before catching her gaze and smiling.

“Guess I’ll see you on Monday, then.”

It’s lame and ill thought out and Kelley is kicking herself for not thinking of a better line ahead of time. 

The woman laughs and smiles and Kelley can physically see the change in colour of her cheeks. She awkwardly (and cutely) tucks her hands into her pockets and Kelley has to bite the inside of her lip to hold her composure together.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll- “ but then, just at the top of the stairs, on the street corner right next to the newspaper stands with cars and bicycles whizzing by, the woman stops. She holds Kelley in place with her piercing blue eyes. They’re so commanding. “Actually, maybe I can see you tomorrow night?” 

Kelley has to be imagining it. There’s no way this woman that she’s more or less been completely infatuated with for the past five days is actually asking her out. Especially because the only words they’ve exchanged prior was about the time. But these words are crystal clear and Kelley mostly has a level head on her shoulders so she knows this is really happening.

Awkwardly, she stares at the ground and then back up with a timid smile. 

“I would love that.”


End file.
